A Small Crime
by capital8550
Summary: Sebastian/Marchioness Middleford. Procrastination made me turn it into a two-shot. The other chapter is just from Frances' POV. I have a weird love of this pair so I felt the need to write more.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So thank you very, very, very much to everyone who reviewed/favorited/just viewed the first time! Seriously I did not expect reviews, etc. to be so exciting since I'm not really a serious writer. I should be writing my final Philosophy paper but purely out of procrastination I wrote an entire chapter on what Frances was thinking the whole time. I also changed the end a little because I suck at endings and can't figure out what to do.

Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji and the characters belong to Yana Toboso - if I got ahold of them the plot would disappear.

* * *

><p>Sebastian, diligent as ever, was working late into the night. He sat at the desk in his bedroom working on the household finances silently, content for the moment with the lack of interruptions from the other incompetent members of the staff. He was relaxed, outerwear hung over the back of a chair, leaving him in slacks and an ever-crisp button down.<p>

He enjoyed his time alone late at night, when he could at least partially drop his human façade. It was pleasant to free his hands from his gloves every so often, and he rather liked the faint glow the contract had when it caught the light of the lamp.

He could also work much more quickly away from the gazes of the other denizens of the estate when he could read, calculate, and write far faster than even an intelligent human would be able to.

He was also free to mumble comments to himself at times, something he made sure he never did around others. He, like humans, had a propensity to slip back into a more familiar language when speaking to himself, and talking to oneself was not looked upon favorably in any case.

Sebastian's head perked up when he heard a door open. His acute hearing pinpointed it as coming from the guest quarters, where Marchioness Middleford and Lady Elizabeth were currently staying.

Light and slow footsteps informed him that the walker was sneaking about and wanted to avoid waking any others at all costs. Sebastian listened curiously as the footsteps began nearing his own part of the estate.

As they got closer (Why either of the ladies would be over here he had not a clue) he identified the person as the Marchioness. The gait and weight of the steps suited the lady's stature better than her daughter's.

Sebastian groaned internally, wondering if she had found something to complain about this late at night, although he couldn't imagine why she wouldn't either wait until morning or ring the service bell to inform him.

The steps stopped outside his door, and he turned back to his work so as to look engrossed in it. A normal human would not have heard her approaching, and it would be suspicious to stare at the door in anticipation.

He contemplated putting his gloves on, but decided that it would seem odd at this hour, and without them little attention would be given to his hands. The lamp was low enough to make any human's vision quite poor, though his sight was not materially affected.

Although he was staring at the papers in front of him, his attention was focused on the woman standing outside his door. She had paused for a bit, but now seemed to be reaching for the handle. Sebastian was surprised that a woman as proper as she was did not plan on knocking, though he supposed that visiting a male servant in his bedroom, especially at this hour, was already pushing any reasonable bounds of propriety.

Apparently coming to a decision, the hand on the knob turned it quickly, opening the door enough for Frances Middleford to step in swiftly and shut the door behind her just as fast. Sebastian turned to her in mock surprise, rising from his seat, as was proper, and giving a shallow dip of his head. "Do you require anything, Lady Middleford?" he asked rather pointlessly, as she obviously must have needed something to impel her to come to him.

The woman in front of him took a deep breath and looked him over. Sebastian faced her, a bit uncomfortable now that this woman had thrown his nightly routine off and pushed him into an unfamiliar situation. He noted idly that she had not even bothered throwing on a dressing gown, and was clad only in a modest but thin nightgown. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow, instead allowing a fake smile to pull at the corners of his mouth as he waited for her to respond.

After a few moments she had still said nothing. She took another deep breath and then strode further into his room, directly towards him.

Sebastian almost stepped backwards, not out of intimidation, but simple confusion. Humans were generally quite predictable, but they gave him trouble when they acted strangely. Reacting to situations impulsively would in many situations lead to behavior that would be utterly strange for a human.

Still, his usually brilliant mind was drawing a blank when it came to the situation at hand. His mind told him to offer her water or perhaps some tea or warm milk to help her sleep. His instincts told him to offer services of a _different_ nature, although they would certainly still help her sleep.

Internal struggle over, he instead took a step forward to meet her. "Would you like something warm to drink?" he asked politely, watching her face carefully. Sebastian fought to keep his expression neutral when she spoke. "Sit down," she said commandingly, gesturing not to his chair but to his bed. The butler did as ordered, sitting down and smoothing out the sheets compulsively.

Satisfied, the Marchioness walked closer, blew out the lamp, and continued walking until she was standing almost directly over Sebastian, who had put his hands behind him on the bed and leaned back slightly.

She promptly stepped forward and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him backwards and simultaneously lifting her knees up and climbing on the bed over top of him. Although his strength was far superior to hers, Sebastian was too shocked to resist her push and landed softly on his back.

He looked up at her, quite surprised yet not embarrassed in the least at their positioning. "May I ask what you're doing, Lady Middleford?" he asked, this time allowing an eyebrow to quirk a tad impertinently. "Frances," she responded. "May I ask what you're doing, _Frances_?" he retorted, his tone slipping from polite to playful.

"I can't imagine a man with a face as pretty as yours has no inkling as to what I'm here for," she told him frankly while tracing a finger down the aforementioned 'pretty face'. He chuckled briefly before responding.

"I was just under the impression that you weren't particularly fond of me," he said, still smiling. "I'm not," she said, still frank. "I'm just feeling rather restless." "You've always seemed to be _satisfied_ with your husband," he said suggestively. She smiled in return. "As a husband, yes. As a lover…" she shrugged, voice trailing off.

Sebastian briefly considered his course of action. He was quite certain that Ciel would forbid him from doing this if he knew about it. However, his master had not expressly forbid him from having such relationships with anyone.

He was also not quite sure how he could politely refuse the lady currently straddling him, and his baser instincts were telling him not to pass up the opportunity that had quite literally fallen into his lap.

Ultimately, he decided that Ciel would never have to know. The contract would always let him know if Ciel were to awaken, and his acute hearing would alert him to anyone approaching his door with more than enough time for him to make himself presentable and temporarily hide his partner in crime.

After making his decision, Sebastian focused on the task at hand. He allowed his naturally dominating personality to take over and neatly flipped the two of them over. He wasted no time with being slow or gentle. The woman wasn't here to be loved.

He leaned down and kissed her greedily. He quickly moved away from her lips. He nipped down her neck, careful to avoid drawing blood, the scent of which might make him a bit more feral than he wanted to be.

Deft hands unbuttoned her nightgown down to her navel. Sebastian pushed the fabric aside and descended upon her nicely sized breasts. He reflected that for a human she really was quite attractive, but her normal severity prevented most men from gazing at her in a more lustful manner.

Sebastian's tongue was a little rougher than a human's, though not quite as rough as a cat's. However, Frances seemed to quite enjoy the added texture when he drew it across her already taut nipples. As he had expected, she was not a particularly vocal lover, but the shudders and shivers she was prone to told him as much as her voice could have.

While she was distracted he unbuttoned the rest of her gown as well as his shirt. She became more forward, pushing his shirt off and gripping his strong back with her manicured nails. Sebastian's right hand, which had been working on their clothing, trailed across her stomach and then down to touch her.

He thrust two fingers into her without preamble. She was more than ready, and Sebastian was internally pleased that she was so wet with relatively little work on his part. Frances's hips snapped upwards and she bit her lip, and when she looked at him in wonder Sebastian thought that she looked somewhat girlish. Women of her age were usually more accustomed to this type of pleasure, and didn't react so enticingly. He wondered exactly what her husband had to be doing so wrong that he couldn't make her feel this.

His fingers moved quickly in and out, and after a few moments he added a third. Many, many years of experience told him exactly how to move, and in a few minutes he heard her gasp sharply and then felt the muscles around his fingers clench rhythmically.

He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them off sensually. His vision was practically as good at night as during the day, so he caught the very sudden blush that arose when he did.

He allowed her to recover for a moment while he undid his belt and discarded his pants and underwear. He climbed back over her predatorily and kissed her once more.

Sebastian aligned their bodies and thrust hard. Frances's voice hitched, and he noticed that she looked a bit uncomfortable for a passing moment. "It's been that long?" Sebastian asked, nearly laughing. "It's been awhile," she responded, eyes shifting away from his. "You're also a bit more…substantial," she said, keeping her gaze firmly on a wall and nearly mumbling the last bit.

Sebastian was glad her gaze was averted, because he was fairly certain his eyes momentarily lit up into a more fiery red at her words. His destructive and chaotic side was positively gleeful at the discord he was sowing between this previously content couple.

Sebastian grinned, pulling back and thrusting hard again. This time she arched up to meet him and moaned lowly. Only needing one arm to support himself, Sebastian used his right hand to grab behind Frances's knee and push it up. It didn't make it all the way up to her head, but close enough that he was still impressed by her flexibility. At this angle he was penetrating her more fully, and her head started thrashing from side to side as she came again.

This time she was a little noisier and whined almost pitifully in the back of her throat. Sebastian shuddered, this time her body clenching around something much more sensitive than his fingers, but kept a steady rhythm and held himself back.

After she'd ridden out her orgasm he pulled back slightly, a little unsure on the etiquette in this situation. "Come on," she said, pushing her hips into his, suddenly playful. "Aren't you going to finish?" He sighed in relief internally. However, he backed out further, disengaging their bodies completely.

She was momentarily confused, but he quickly flipped her onto her stomach, holding her around the waist so that her hips stayed in the air. Sebastian could tell she was about to protest at suffering this indignity, but the chastisement turned into a groan when he thrust back into her.

He hadn't exactly been gentle before, but his time he was positively rough. Frances wasn't exactly a delicate lady though, and after she let herself stop caring about the shameful position she was in she began to enjoy the smack of his hard body into hers.

Face in a pillow, her moans were softened, but to Sebastian she sounded quite lewd. He of course said nothing, sure that it would earn him a very stern reprimand when they went back to being lady and servant, but it delighted him to see such a prim and proper woman sounding like a common whore. He supposed he could indulge himself a tad more.

Seeing that she was close to another orgasm, he slowed down a bit and thrust more shallowly. She whimpered slightly, thrusting her own hips backwards to try and compensate. Sebastian threaded strong fingers into her hair and moved her head enough that the pillow no longer muffled her voice. "Beg," he commanded, his own voice a bit strained.

"I will not be—nghh," she finished, voice turning into a moan when he carefully ran a finger around her clitoris. He stroked her expertly, teasing but never pushing with enough force or accuracy to trigger a real reaction. Frances gasped intermittently, wiggling in an attempt to follow his finger. Finally she gave up.

"Please," she choked out. He put his finger over just the right spot, but let it hover there as he waited for more. She moaned again in a combination of pleasure and frustration. "Please let me come," she tried. His finger pressed harder.

She was so, so, maddeningly close. His thrusts became a little more forceful and she nearly cried with relief. But it was still not quite enough. "Please _fuck_ me, Seb-ahhhh!" The rest of his name was lost as he pressed his finger down hard just as he thrust back in deeply, but he didn't care. Sebastian wasn't his real name in any case.

Her final orgasm was violent, and when she clamped down around him Sebastian growled and pulled at her hair once again, losing his rhythm for the last couple thrusts and giving an almost inaudible groan when he finally came as well.

He disengaged them before lowering himself between the sheets. To his surprise she made no move to leave. He let her stay, and even allowed himself to sleep for a few hours.

When Sebastian awoke Frances was still asleep, and he left her that way for the time being. He bathed and began preparing breakfast for the other servants and his master and guests. He woke her up about two hours later, sending her off to her room to bathe before the other servants got up.

In the daytime hours she was once again every inch the Marchioness. He knew this would very likely not continue, and that did not bother him. Yet, on the nights during the year that the lady stayed over, Sebastian often found himself listening for turning doorknobs and soft footsteps, waiting and wondering and maybe even wishing.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hopefully I kept Frances as IC as possible. I had to fudge a little when it came to meeting/marrying her husband. I kind of feel bad because I like him, but this wouldn't work if he was totally perfect. I felt like her side of the story needed explaining so here it is...

* * *

><p>Frances tossed and turned in her bed. She was visiting her nephew with Elizabeth, and was sleeping in her old room at her old home. She wondered, not for the first time, how the room had been replicated so perfectly.<p>

The house had been all but destroyed in the fire that had taken her elder brother's life, and she couldn't imagine how Ciel had managed to remember even the smallest details of an unused bedroom. She tried to stop this train of thought so that she could get to sleep, since it was well past midnight, and she liked to wake up early.

Another hour passed in vain as she tried to get herself to sleep. She was _tired_, dammit, and she at first wasn't sure what was keeping her up. She was neither too warm nor too cold, the bed was very comfortable, the sheets were silky smooth, she wasn't hungry or thirsty, and she was neither stressed nor anxious. She was just restless and didn't know why. Rather, she supposed, she didn't want to admit why.

After dinner that clumsy maid had tripped and knocked into Frances, sending her falling onto that damned butler and knocking him over. She had gotten up quickly, but when she had begun to pick herself up, for just the briefest moment, she wanted something.

She wasn't quite sure what that something was, but knew it was indecent enough that she had kept herself from wondering. But that vague feeling of want had stayed with her, even though she did her best to ignore it.

Her mind drifted off again, rambling through thoughts of the past and future. Frances wished she was back home so that she could go curl up against Alexis. Although they no longer shared a bed very often, she was sure that his warmth and steady breathing would be able to lull her to sleep.

Her marriage had, of course, been arranged, but she counted herself lucky that they got along well. They respected each other, liked each other, and were affectionate if rarely intimate.

Once she had given him two children, he had not often joined her at night. She'd had some trouble with Elizabeth's birth, and the doctors had told her she was likely infertile. No longer good for producing more children, there was not much reason for her husband to come to her.

Frances knew that instead he sometimes found his comfort in other women – barmaids and serving girls, probably even the occasional whore. She didn't mind, really. It didn't happen frequently, he was discrete about it, and it had never seemed to carry any emotional attachment.

Frances did think it unfair that _she_ couldn't rightly go to someone else. It wasn't as though she was particularly lustful, but now and then even she craved to be touched and kissed and loved.

She had spent enough time with Rachel's sister to have heard stories of how her lover _ought_ to make her feel. Angelina had even dared suggest that if Frances wasn't being adequately "provided for" by her husband, that there were plenty of men whom Angelina might suggest in his place. Frances knew that other ladies sometimes took such liberties, but she had always been able to deny herself.

Thinking about such a sordid subject had put Frances's mind in the wrong place. Now sleeping was certain to be nigh impossible, what with the small flame of desire that had grown within her as her imagination took her places it should not have been. She tried to sleep, and, if not, to at least think about more appropriate things.

Unfortunately her mind wandered back to earlier that evening. She shouldn't be seeing his face at the same time she rubbed her thighs together to try and ease some of the discomfort she felt.

She didn't even _like_ him. He had never done or said anything that had angered her, there was just something very visceral that made her uncomfortable. He acted so properly, so flawlessly, and yet something about him bothered her immensely.

Perhaps it was that he was inordinately pretty - she thought that a better word than handsome, his features were too delicate and doll-like, and she wouldn't let herself call him beautiful. Or maybe it was his too graceful way of moving, or overly rich voice, or any of the myriad other things that just made her wonder how any man was created so perfect.

But despite the fact that something about him perturbed her, she could not get him out of her head. Something about him just told her that he could give her what she desired. She didn't even know _why._ He had never given the slightest hint that he _had_ sexual desire.

Other men's eyes tended to follow beautiful women when they passed, or wander when they thought no one was looking, and she had never once seen him do that. She would think he preferred men, but neither had she ever caught him looking at his own gender. Nonetheless, he exuded an aura that made her think he was probably just as skilled in _that_ area as he was at everything else.

She cursed herself for keeping on this track. It was doing her body no good, and she was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She threw off her sheets, which now felt stifling. When she rolled onto her stomach, her gown pulled just right against her now-sensitized body. Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily, and when she opened them she had made a radical decision.

She needed a warm body against hers, and she wanted it to be Sebastian's, in all its perfect angles. She was just curious, she told herself. It wouldn't happen again, and afterwards she could go back to being a perfect wife. But as much as she tried, she could not _always_ be perfect, and this time she just couldn't quite help herself.

She crept out of her room slowly, and as quietly as she could manage. Luckily, the mansion was fairly new, so there were no creaky doors or floorboards just yet. She assumed that the rest of the house had been rebuilt to resemble its previous state, so unless the servants were sleeping in guest rooms, she knew which room should be Sebastian's.

She stopped outside his door. She could see the faint glow of a light, and reasoned that this was definitely his room, since none of the other servants would be up at this hour. She stepped inside quickly, and brought her eyes up to look at him. He seemed to be doing paperwork, but his gaze quickly snapped up to stare at her.

He looked even more entrancing in the candlelight, the softness of the light offsetting his somewhat sharp features. As soon as he recognized who the intruder was, Sebastian rose and dipped his head.

He asked her if there was something that she required, but she stayed silent, suddenly self-conscious. She had given a lot of thought to her feelings, but she hadn't actually considered that _he_ might turn her away. She would be so terribly embarrassed if that happened, and she was momentarily frozen.

She didn't think she could speak quite yet, so she moved toward him a few steps. He mercifully spoke again, asking her if she wanted a drink. He had given her a way out, and oddly this helped her regain her confidence – she could back out now, but decided firmly against doing so. She was his superior and Frances doubted she would be turned down if she made her intentions clear.

She had found her voice again, and did her best not to display any nervousness. She told him to sit in her most demanding voice, and gestured very pointedly to his bed. He obeyed.

She walked towards him, blowing out the lamp on the way. She stood over him and stared down, hoping that by now he knew what she wanted, and that his obedience was an invitation to continue.

She kneeled over him, pushing his shoulders back so that she was straddling him. They were roughly in the same position that they had been when she had fallen into him earlier. He was maddeningly calm even now.

"May I ask what you're doing, Lady Middleford?" he asked, voice deep and melodic and enough to almost make her shudder in desire. "Frances," she responded. She wouldn't let him make a mockery of her station while she did this.

"May I ask what you're doing, _Frances_?" was his next comment, and she was surprised at the rather saucy tone he had. It secretly pleased her that she had gotten him to drop what she had always suspected was a façade of absolute politeness.

"I can't imagine a man with a face as pretty as yours has no inkling as to what I'm here for," she told him. She knew that he knew, and probably just found it amusing to make her admit out loud what she wanted. She let her right pointer finger travel from his brow down over his high cheekbones before brushing along a strong jawline. She felt more than heard the soft laugh he gave at this.

"I was just under the impression that you weren't particularly fond of me." It wasn't as though she had bothered to hide it. "I'm not," she said, not wanting him to get any undue thoughts about her feelings for him. "I'm just feeling rather restless." That was true enough. It wasn't quite the confession that he wanted though.

"You've always seemed to be _satisfied_ with your husband." This time she almost bristled at the emphasis he put on "satisfied", but she would not deny what she knew to be true. "As a husband, yes. As a lover…" she let her voice trail off, not sure how to end the sentence without disparaging a man that she did care very much for.

Sebastian stared at her curiously for a moment, and when he flipped her onto her back and loomed over her, she was silently relieved. He wasn't going to refuse her, and she knew she could at least count on him keeping silent about this.

She was surprised when he kissed her. In some ways that seemed almost more intimate than what she wanted, but she quickly decided she liked it. His mouth ventured down her neck, and when she felt unexpectedly sharp teeth scrape against her skin, her pulse fluttered in a way it never had.

She felt him reach for the buttons on her nightgown and was suddenly nervous again. She knew she was attractive, but surely women far more beautiful than she had shared his bed. God knew a face like his could get him any woman he wanted – he'd enticed her with exactly zero effort on his part.

She also imagined she was at least ten years older than him, probably a bit more. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and couldn't possibly have been more than thirty. She, on the other hand, was old enough to have a son already grown. She supposed he found her at least adequate when she heard him hum appreciatively, eyes hungrily staring down at her breasts.

He gave them only the most rudimentary of touches before leaning down and pressing warm and wet lips against her flesh. She fought to keep herself silent, not wanting him to know just how much she was enjoying this.

She couldn't stop herself from shuddering minutely when he kissed somewhere sensitive though, and she almost jumped when he _licked_ her, his tongue pulling across a nipple. For all his former propriety, he was apparently as indecent as they came.

She didn't really notice that he had unbuttoned her gown the rest of the way down until she shifted a little and it slipped open. He had also removed his own shirt, and she almost wished he would stop for a little so that she could just stare.

She briefly traced her fingers over tight stomach muscles that twitched ever so slightly as her hands drifted lower. Instead of continuing her downward path she sent her hands around his back, scraping her nails against his skin.

And finally, he delivered on what his previous touches had promised. Frances's back arced upwards instantly when she felt his fingers in her. He was almost frighteningly sure of himself, and delightfully skilled. She gazed at him from under half-closed eyelids, her eyes catching and holding his as his fingers thrust in and out.

When she felt a third long finger sneak in next to his other two, she began to feel strange. Frances wasn't stupid, and although she had never once actually had an orgasm, she was certain that was what she was beginning to feel. She couldn't stifle a breathy gasp when it finally crashed over her, and for the first time that night the lingering guilt that plagued her had completely fled from her mind.

When Frances opened her eyes to look at Sebastian, he held her gaze and brought his right hand to his lips. Her cheeks absolutely burned when he began licking his fingers off. The man had to be completely shameless to be able to look her in the eye without even a hint of a blush.

Finished, he reached down, and Frances heard cloth rustling and metal clanking softly. She knew he was finally undressing, but was still a bit too embarrassed by his earlier spectacle to watch as he did so.

She looked up at him when he climbed back over top of her. His hand touched her again, though this time it was to guide him. He wasn't slow or gentle, and quite suddenly every inch of him was buried in her. She hadn't exactly seen many men unclothed, but it was rather more inches than she was expecting, and her breath skipped at the slight discomfort.

She was surprised, since she'd had two children, but supposed that was long in the past, and her husband hadn't approached her for at least three years. To her chagrin, Sebastian seemed to notice. "It's been that long?" He hadn't even bothered trying to hide that he was nearly laughing. "It's been awhile." She couldn't keep her eyes on his while she admitted things like this. "You're also a bit more…substantial." She instantly regretted letting that slip out of her mouth, and opted to stare at the wall until he did something.

Thankfully he was quick about it. He began thrusting against her, and this time her body welcomed him happily. This was exactly what she had wanted. She wasn't silly enough to think he actually cared for her, but he cared enough to make sure she enjoyed this, and that was all that mattered to her.

She could have let him go on like this for eternity, thrusting slow and hard and deep as she arched to meet him each time. But he seemed to want something else, and her eyes snapped open when she felt his hand on the back of her knee.

Her leg was suddenly pushed up, stretched toward her head but not uncomfortably so. When he thrust back into her she realized why he'd wanted to shift positions a bit. The angle was better for him, and he could press his hips flush with hers and fit every last centimeter of him in her. He sped up some too, and it was enough to make Frances come again.

This time it was more intense for her. She could feel her inner muscles tighten around him involuntarily. She felt him shudder slightly, and she was shocked that he could keep going without breaking rhythm. Then it dawned on her that he hadn't orgasmed. She wondered how exactly he had grown to be so patient. She felt almost bad, and was a bit worried that she hadn't been able to satisfy him. Men weren't supposed to be difficult; Angelina had often regaled Frances against her will with stories of how easily one could make them beg.

Frances briefly wondered if Ciel's other aunt had done this with Sebastian too, but decided that right now she really did _not_ want to know. She wasn't sure if she'd feel jealous, and she didn't really want to find out.

Thoughts back to the moment, Frances looked up at Sebastian. His eyes were almost pleading with her, and she realized he probably wasn't sure if he was allowed his own pleasure. He also might be concerned about getting her pregnant, since even with his seemingly infinite knowledge he probably didn't know it was no longer possible for her. She couldn't believe he could still be so – polite, for lack of a better word. She thrust her hips up into his this time, trying to entice him back into a rhythm.

She was a bit confused for a moment when he pulled away still further, but when her flipped her over she almost wanted to slap him for daring to put her in such a degrading position. But before she could even get out a word of anger he had thrust back in fully, and the words died on her tongue as she groaned and bit into the pillow next to her.

This time his thrusts were markedly faster, and he seemed intent on going faster still. She was ashamed to be enjoying the rough treatment so much that she was moaning almost constantly, and kept her face hidden in his pillow.

She couldn't believe she was now close to a third orgasm and she hadn't been able to get a sound out of him. But as her body succumbed to the heat spreading through it, she stopped caring as much. Until the heat began receding as he slowed down. She mindlessly thrust her hips backwards to try to keep up his previous rhythm, but he moved back in time with her. He kept his thrusts maddeningly slow for a bit.

She felt him lean over her a little, and then she felt strong fingers grip her hair quite hard. He forcibly moved her face away from the pillow. Then he said what had to be the most insulting word in the English language, in a more commanding tone than even her father had been able to muster.

"Beg," he ordered her. Her only solace was that his voice, though demanding, sounded like it was coming through teeth that were tightly clenched in an effort to remain in control.

She was angrier than she'd ever been. She had allowed him some liberties, for after all she had been the one to come to him, but this crossed a line. She wouldn't stand for a man probably closer in age to her son, and a servant on top of that, to give her orders.

"I will not beg," she _almost_ got out, but his fingers had found somewhere wonderful and the last word crumbled into a low moan. He hadn't touched her like this yet, his fingers carefully teasing a swollen piece of flesh that created much sharper spikes of pleasure than anything he'd done so far. If he would just touch a little more towards the center she would be finished.

She tried to follow his fingers with her hips and make them rub on the right spot, but he was much too quick for her. She also realized she must be providing quite a show for him, and promptly gave up. She told herself she'd punish him later, when her position was less…compromising.

"Please." There. That was all she'd allow out of her mouth, at least that's what she thought. Finally, finally he brushed over just the right spot. She tried to press down against his hand, but he was again able to keep her from doing so.

She was terribly embarrassed by what she was about to say, but her desire to come was more pressing. "Please let me come." She was glad he probably couldn't see her blush when she said this. He thrust harder, gaining back a fast rhythm. She wasn't sure how he knew what would keep her teetering on the edge, and she was so very close, but it was just less than enough for her.

As the combination of his fingers and thrusts turned the pleasure very intense, she finally gave him what he'd wanted to hear. "Please _fuck_ me, Seb-ahhhh!" She had _never _used such a word before, but it slipped out and by the time she noticed, she didn't care.

Her mind was perfectly blank for a couple moments, and she felt her muscles clench around him again as she balled her hands in his sheets. He lost his rhythm and thrust deep and hard, and his hips jerked sharply into hers a couple times without withdrawing much at all. She could just barely make out the low groan that signaled he had finished.

He fell bonelessly back onto his bed and pulled the sheets over them. She knew she ought to leave, but she wanted to pretend for a little that this wasn't the end. He had more than satisfied her curiosity, and she knew she would probably not do this again, which made her a bit sad.

He didn't seem to mind, and he even held her close and let her fall asleep on his shoulder. She knew it wasn't real affection, but he pretended so well that this time she didn't mind that it was too perfect.

She slept very well, and didn't even notice when he awoke and got out of bed. When he woke her he was already washed and dressed. Even though she was still naked and wrapped in his sheets, in the morning light he'd reverted to addressing her as "Lady Middleford" when he woke her up. She was glad he didn't say anything, or ask her something. She would probably have said something she'd end up regretting later.

They returned to their usual roles, and really, she wouldn't have wanted it to end up differently. But still, on lonely and sleepless nights, Frances would let her mind wander places it shouldn't, wishing and wondering and finally just waiting for the desire to pass.

* * *

><p><strong>More random AN: **Ending things is soooo hard. I have a new respect for people who can make good ones. Also I reuse some words way too much but I'm lazy and can't think of new ones. Anyway, hope anyone reading enjoyed! Somehow my crack pairing turned into my favorite pairing even though it will never happen. I'm not going to beg for reviews but instead beg for someone else to take this pairing up. Please? Also can we get Frances her own entry on the character dropdown list? Or am I missing it? I feel like she's important enough.


End file.
